


A fragment of a lifetime

by Beauteousmajesty



Series: On discovery [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Genderfluid Character, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, None of my Nordics are cishet, Queerplatonic friendship - Freeform, Unsafe Binding Techniques, most things are implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 16:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19023385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beauteousmajesty/pseuds/Beauteousmajesty
Summary: Finland and Norway have known each other a long time. When asked, Finland might say that Norway is his favourite Nordic, and here’s why.





	A fragment of a lifetime

**Author's Note:**

> I know there’s historical inaccuracies in this (I’ve messed up dates and timelines, I know), but to condense a whole history of a nation without making light of the sufferings of its people is actually really hard. I’ve been working on this one for months and I think this is the best it’s going to get.   
> For the warnings I’ve put on it, everything is implied but I didn’t want to leave them out as this is possibly the darkest work in the series thus far.

After the initial flurry of activity. After panic and hiding and people bombarding their homes. After everything began to quiet, the questions grew louder. People called to Finland in the streets, they inundated his government with questions. He knew the others were all in the same position; surrounded by questions and unsure of what answers to give.

He had opened a twitter account and to it came question after question. There were simple things like ‘do you speak Swedish?’ and harder questions like ‘which Nordic are you closest to emotionally?’

It was this second question that he thought about replying to, somewhat irritated that the thread of tweets surrounding it all sought to answer for him, demeaning the asker but still giving the wrong answer, voices crying ‘Sweden! Sweden!’ presumed to understand the mess that was Finland. Finland didn’t even understand the mess that was Finland.

His fingers hovered over the screen of his Nokia carefully thinking through his response; trying to rationalise why his brain immediately answered with ‘Norway’.

They’d first met when Sweden had dragged Finland home with him, after years of war. Sweden had told him his name was Finland, and didn’t seem to hear when Finland told him his name was Suomi. Finland had been terrified of Sweden and Denmark, whose explosive quarrels shook their (Denmark’s) home. Norway, on the other hand, was quiet, padding through the fortress with muffled feet, attempting to avoid becoming the centre of yet another fight. The elder nation had tended to the small cuts on Finland’s body, remainders of his trips and falls whilst being towed along by the long legged Swede.

Norway’s fingers were gentle as he dabbed the wounds with a cloth covered in a strange substance that Finland would never be able to name. Finland was certain that it was something magical, but knowing Norway, he could never be sure.

After that, Norway half smiled when he saw the other nation, which for Norway, was an incredibly welcoming gesture. So Finland slowly gained the habit of following Norway, who didn’t seem to mind, around the castle. It was also safer for Finland to follow Norway, as the nation held much greater favour with Denmark than Finland did himself, and the Danish nobles had learned not to harm him or those with him for fear of Denmark’s retribution.

It took around a year for Finland to feel as though he’d discovered all of the hiding places in the building. It took him five years, however, to find Norway’s network of hidden passages, in which he kept a tiny Iceland hidden, small and vulnerable to the largest nations in the castle. Finland had only discovered the passages after Norway had taken his hand and led him, silently, through the castle, behind the hanging tapestries of Danish victories.

It was in those warmer rooms that Finland first saw Norway smile properly, with his tiny brother cradled in his arms, cheeks still chubby with baby fat. All five of them were still physically children, not built for war or pillaging. Norway’s smile was something that Finland clung to through the fights and quarrels and broken tables and shouting and noise. There was so much noise when Sweden and Denmark were in the building. But from the first moment he saw him smile, Finland trusted Norway, regardless of whether Norway returned that trust.

They couldn’t spend all their time together, Norway had his own commitments and Sweden often sought after Finland, and Denmark after Norway. Finland was still scared of Sweden, and hid when he could to avoid the tall and imposing Nation.

Norway wasn’t scared of Denmark, or Sweden, Finland noticed, he was perfectly capable of being equally scary when they tried to control him.

Norway’s body was older than Finland’s, and he held greater responsibilities within their household, often having to leave Finland to babysit Iceland for weeks or months on end.

Sometimes the halls were empty, the elder three nations all gone to war. When they left, Finland would bring Iceland down to play, even if his stories weren’t as good as Norway’s and he couldn’t make things appear by just wiggling his fingers, like Norway could. What Finland could do, however, was teach, he made the tiny nation a slingshot and taught him to launch small pebbles (vaguely) in the direction of danger, a trick Finland had taught himself.

Like his brother, Iceland was a quiet child, small and fragile so far from home. It saddened Finland to be so far away from his own land, and he worried about little Iceland, with his small tremors and shakes. Iceland rarely cried or spoke, so Finland often just sat with the smaller child in his arms, talking about his own land.

When the others returned, they looked exhausted. Norway’s body had grown again, and gone were his childish curves and soft edges. It took him longer to dress and Denmark called for him more often.

Norway didn’t stop looking tired before Sweden took Finland and left. His last view of the older nation was his worried face tucked behind a crying Iceland, who’d been deemed old enough to be brought downstairs to play. He didn’t see Norway again for a long time.

The years passed by and they exchanged coded letters, written in forbidden tongues with invisible ink. They both fell into the role of favoured colony, or certainly Norway did, but their messages were significant in what they didn’t say, plague, war and famine all concealed.

Finland had begun to grow and Sweden called for him more often, much like Denmark had called for Norway. He didn’t tell Norway about those evenings, he didn’t think that he needed to. Norway understood perfectly, he thought, and they both excelled in concealing substance within small-talk. To the unexperienced reader, the pair of nations simply exchanged pleasantries and meaningless anecdotes. As the years progressed, their codes became more intricate as they passed state secrets between themselves, no longer simply teasing about the different translations of the Finnish ‘Norja’, ‘norja’ and ‘sorja’. Although Norway always enjoyed the fact that his name was also a synonym for supple and graceful and brought it up occasionally.

Finland envied Norway somewhat. He always had, as when Sweden wasn’t around, there was nothing Denmark wouldn’t do for Norway. Norway went happily to Denmark, and Finland wished he had the other nation’s bravery.

He heard about the plague before he saw it. It spread from Norway’s ports into his lands, killing indiscriminately. Most of Norway died, Finland heard, although he couldn’t visit his friend from his own sickbed. He prayed to all the gods he knew for his friends, and his family, and for his people.

He didn’t think that any gods would listen. They might listen to Norway, or another nation of higher standing than Finland, he guessed. He prayed in Swedish; perhaps the gods would listen to the language that Sweden told him was superior.

They lived. Just. Perhaps it was the Swedish that helped them. If any of his praying had helped, Finland doubted that it was his Finnish praying. The glimpses of Norway he snatched over the next hundred or so years revealed an enormous change in the older nation, body now stripped of weight, fragile and angular, with a thin hand that clutched at Iceland’s equally frail one. Norway still greeted Finland with a half-smile, the expression struggling to alter his exhausted features.  
   
Russia came for Finland, and Finland went with him, he still struggled to say no to stronger nations and perhaps a change from Swedish rule would be good. He heard whispers of war to the west.  
   
The next time he saw Norway, his eyes had lost their light. He stood, trapped, in Sweden’s arms, body still frail from the plague. Iceland was nowhere to be seen. Finland knew how Norway felt, as Russia worked his people to the death.  
   
He’d heard that Denmark had tried to give himself to Prussia, to stop being a nation. When he saw the tall nation, Denmark stood smaller, shoulders bent, lacking the confidence that he had once held. Finland worried about little Iceland.  
   
In 1905, Sweden let Norway go, so Norway went home for the first time in years. Iceland wasn’t so little anymore, he wrote, enclosing a photograph of a young teen, pale and awkward. Finland hid the picture in case Russia found it, he wanted to keep their little Iceland safe.  
   
Norway’s letters grew thicker once he was free, sharing all his troubles of autonomy with Finland. Government troubles were hardly something he could share with any other Nordic, Denmark and Sweden would patronise him, and Iceland was still too young.  
   
When Russia fell, Finland ran. He took all he could with him and his people fought with words for their freedom. It was in 1917 that Finland could stand on his own soil and call himself Suomi again. He was not Swedish, or Russian, he was Finnish and he was finished with being conquered.  
   
In 1918, Iceland gained some independence from Denmark, so Finland went to visit him privately and give him his congratulations (their first official diplomatic meeting would come over twenty years later). It was at the port that he first saw Norway, headed as he was, to see Iceland.

The elder nation appeared much stronger than the last time that Finland had seen him, head held high with the confidence that having his own king gave him.   
   
Iceland too had grown, no longer the small, chubby child or the gangly young teenager that he had once been. He stood at the cusp of adulthood, with the last vestiges of childhood clinging to his form. He gazed at Finland as if he were a distant relative that he only just remembered as he greeted his brother.  
   
Both nations were clad in oversized knitwear which looked as if it had been made by one keen for the pair to grow. Finland suspected Denmark, the larger nation was like that when his family were concerned. For instance, he was perfectly aware that Denmark had lent Iceland some of his military for 25 years, whilst Iceland established himself. No one had lent Finland anything other than words.  
   
Norway half smiled at Finland before reminding Iceland who the new nation was. The awkwardness of their conversation pulled at Finland’s heart as he remembered cosy days in Iceland’s nursery, where the three of them had fit together like puzzle pieces, belonging together. Now they sat in silence in Iceland’s kitchen as he carefully made something to drink. Even in the house each of them wore gloves and full sleeves, hiding scars of different nationhood. When they did speak, their conversations rarely strayed from pleasantries, each unsure which topics of serious conversation would bring each other pain.  
   
Finland noticed that Norway rarely used his magic anymore, cautiously hiding his knowledge from his people. Finland wondered what had happened, as Norway once would use his magic for every possible purpose, the air around him thick with his power, like the air before a thunderstorm. Norway’s people had once heralded him as a god, praying for his presence on the battlefield. Finland found it amusing to occasionally read accounts of the Norse gods and try to ascertain which of his friends had inspired which part. He was certain that Norway had inspired the myths of Loki and Freyja (a chariot pulled by cats was exactly something that Norway would go for). He was also pretty convinced that Denmark played the role of Thor, even though Norway owned the hammer. He wasn’t so sure about Sweden or Iceland, as studying his friends’ old lore wasn’t really much of a priority for him.  
   
He realised that he should have given more attention to the Norse myths when Norway decided to finally introduce him to his children. Finland hadn’t been aware that Norway had children before this point, so naturally he was confused and a little worried, as he did remember that a number of Loki’s children were said to play a pivotal role in ragnarok. He didn’t tell Norway about his concerns as he remembered how protective his friend could get and he valued his continued existence. He was also pretty impressed that Norway had managed to conceal his children for almost as long as they’d known each other.  
   
Norway’s children were pretty adorable, Finland had to admit. Apparently Denmark held custody over Greenland and little Faroes, whilst Norway had Svalbard. He knew that Norway also owned the island of Jan Mayen, but held his tongue as he wasn’t sure if he should ask if the island had a small personification. He figured that Norway would tell him eventually. Or he could ask Denmark. Denmark seemed a safer option.  
   
He wasn’t sure why he was now a little scared of Norway or when Denmark had become one of the more passive Nordics. He supposed that they’d all changed. He wasn’t scared of Sweden anymore, or Russia. Not really. He spoke his language with pride after years of being forced to speak the languages of others. When he spoke with Norway, the other nation added hints of Finnish to his Norwegian, as he slowly picked up the spoken aspects of the language, having only written in it before. Whilst Finland understood Norwegian – it sounded almost the same as Swedish, which both of them spoke reluctantly – he was delighted that his friend was learning his language, as it had always been dismissed by other nations. They both also spoke dialects of Sami, which was incredibly useful when words got really confused between them or they just wanted to enjoy their shared languages.  
   
Finland decided that he liked peacetime. He was a member of the League of Nations, which was nice. He liked the unity between all of the member-states. He’d also met a lot of new nations since joining, as he’d always been an isolated agricultural nation. Hungary was very kind to him when he saw her, she always smiled so he’d smile back. The International Court of Justice helped Finland and Sweden settle the matter of Aland between them, giving Finland custody over the small personification. He took Aland to see Norway sometimes. Norway liked children, they made him smile. Finland loved Norway’s smile.  
    
Russia – now the USSR – came for Finland again. This time Finland said no. And so they fought. The Winter War was rough, Finland stood alone. He had one working tank and tiny number of soldiers compared to the might of Russia. He invented the Molotov cocktail from pieces of his broken tanks. He learned to shoot. He’d always been accurate, but soon his snipers became a force to be reckoned with. No official help came from his allies but volunteers found their way into his land and onto his front lines. He stayed Finland. He wasn’t afraid any more.  
   
When the next war came, Denmark went down first. The nation had evacuated most of his Jewish population to neutral Sweden before letting Germany in. The Nazis thought Denmark was beautiful and kept the nation close. Denmark stayed quiet.  
   
Sweden officially closed his eyes to the war.

Finland said ‘fuck it’ and supported Germany so he could take it out on Russia.   
   
Iceland was invaded by the Allies for his own protection. He had no military so he accepted the invasion wordlessly.  
   
Norway heard them coming for him. He sent his government across the sea, to England. He hid everyone who could run his country and stood to meet them. The soldiers came through Sweden for him. He made explosives from fish oil, and tried to keep them out.  
   
When Norway fell, they kept him with Denmark until England came for him. America was looking after Greenland, Scotland had Faroes and Svalbard was watching himself. All they could do was huddle together and wait for the war to end.  
   
England and his brothers liberated Norway and Denmark. Norway began to say thank you in Christmas trees.  
   
They were all pretty broke after the war, America gave them all Marshall Aid. Finland had to pay reparations to Russia, which sucked. He had to change the nature of his country to afford them. He’d been an agricultural nation before, but now he began to industrialise, producing massive international companies, like Nokia.  
   
Norway found that the sea Denmark had given him was full of oil. They were getting richer. They’d once been among the poorest countries in Europe but had begun to rise towards the richest.  
   
When the iron curtain fell over Europe, Finland ignored it, remaining neutral. He traded with the East and the West. They lived.  
   
Once America had withdrawn his soldiers from Iceland, Norway took up the role of guarding his little brother. Finland thought it was adorable. Apparently Iceland found it embarrassing.  
   
They joined international committees with fancy acronyms. Finland, Sweden and Denmark joined the EU. Finland adopted the euro. Iceland, Norway and Denmark all joined NATO. They all joined the UN.  
    
Wealth came to them. Finnish was recognised as an international language, no longer seen as lesser than Swedish.  
   
Finland greeted his newfound wealth and freedom with a smile, pushing away the misery of his past with kindness. He delivered presents to children to make them smile. He built more saunas and enjoyed his lands.  
   
Once the Eurovision Song Contest began, they sent Denmark to discover what it was before following him to the competition each year, sightseeing their way around Europe. Denmark won first, with a song named ‘Dansevise’. Sweden won next, with ‘Waterloo’, in England. Neither Norway nor Denmark were fond of the song as Sweden had taken Norway after the Napoleonic Wars and Norway was somewhat disinclined to promise to love him forevermore, a sentiment that Finland was keen to agree with. Norway came next, with the two happiest Norwegians that Finland had ever seen. When Finland had almost given up on ever winning, he won with ‘Hard Rock Hallelujah’. After that, he took Norway to see Lordi in concert, beginning a yearly tradition of heavy metal concerts. It was best not to talk about Eurovision with Iceland because he got grumpy about not having won yet.  
   
When any of them failed to qualify for Eurovision, they’d spend the evening with their qualified friends, giggling at the behaviour of the audience and placing bets on the voting of the juries.  
    
They had spent year after year with each other. Norway had taught Finland to read, the two of them cuddled together by candlelight in Iceland’s nursery, the tiny child in Finland’s arms. They had read sagas and eddas, hymns and folklore, laughing together and doing funny voices for Iceland’s amusement.  
   
After their independence, they spent warm evenings together, reading in silence, remembering how things used to be. Norway’s house was filled with blankets and crochet work that they wrapped themselves in to keep out the winter chill as they reread the old sagas and remembered. Norway often fell asleep on him when they curled up to read, his pale face snuggled into Finland’s shoulder. When this happened, Finland would usually join in, warmed by the nation sleeping on top of him and cozy on the sofa.  
   
When they slept like this, they often woke to the other’s nightmares, as both had no shortage of horrific memories. Being no stranger to nightmares, they knew how to react to each other’s fear, when to hold each other close, and when to step back and give the other space.  
   
Sometimes they would be plagued by the ghosts of old wounds, long healed scars suddenly bursting into new aches and pains. Finland’s skin would crawl as echoes of shrapnel peppered into his flesh, tiny daggers of burning agony would spring into being in his left shoulder and upper arm. His prosthetic arm would itch where it joined to his upper arm, as the memory of pain would spread down to the ghost of his hand, freezing and inescapable.  

Norway’s ribs would suddenly erupt into pain from years of binding corsetry, making it almost impossible to breathe. Old plague sores would itch ceaselessly across his skin, merging with the itch of the shiny skin of his burn scars. From the 1960s onwards, he started to cough up oil and blood as his people drilled into the ocean floor in search of wealth.

When the pain came, human painkillers failed to have any effect on their immortal bodies, unless taken in a large enough dose to kill their bodies briefly, which always resulted in a massive hangover anyway. Similarly, they could get incredibly drunk by drinking large quantities of alcohol. That too held the problem of the hangover that followed, so their only real option was to try and live or sleep through it.

Norway was perfectly fine with Finland coming over when he was in pain, even if Norway wasn’t home, his house was open to Finland. Finland knew that Norway went to Denmark when his own pain got too bad, but Norway was fine with finding random Nordic nations in his house (Sweden had to call ahead) if they needed his help. Often, in the confines of Norway’s Oslo house, the nation would utilise his magic to do what little help he could, sometimes falling back on ancient tinctures and potions to redistribute the others’ pain.

Even after all of the years they’d known each other, Norway’s fingers were always gentle as he dabbed mysterious liquids into cuts, and no matter how scary he could be, Finland was glad to call Norway his friend.

In the end, he never replied to the tweet, preferring to keep his secrets to himself. He briefly considered answering with Estonia, to see his Baltic friend explode with joy at being counted as a Nordic. That scenario left the possibility for cruel reactions towards Estonia online, so in the end, he followed Norway’s advice and just stayed silent.

**Author's Note:**

> Also please consider that anything in this that strays from the series canon is just Finland misremembering.


End file.
